


When You Let The One You Love Go

by Thewonderginger



Category: Defenders, Iron Fist - Fandom, Jessica Jones - Fandom, Malcolm Ducasse - Fandom, Marvel, Ward Meachum - Fandom, marvel netflix
Genre: Angst, Boy Love, Introspection, M/M, mlm, rape mention, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewonderginger/pseuds/Thewonderginger
Summary: Malcolm Ducasse and Ward Meachum formed an unlikely friendship, found they had similar struggles with drugs and feelings of failure.   Despite Ward's insecurities over being asexual, Malcolm found himself falling in love with this man.  So much that he would even give him up if Ward had a chance at happiness, without Malcolm if he had to.  But Malcolm can't just let go his best friend go...can he...





	1. Malcolm

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an RP

Malcolm sat at his kitchen table surrounded by papers, school catalogues and schedules, looking up information on his computer and taking notes.  His parents were ecstatic that he was going back to school and he was going to be diligent this time.  Not that he wasn’t a good student before but he let a lot of things distract him like a social life and dating.  Also getting kidnapped by a mind controller and forced to become a junkie while stalking a woman got a bit in the way, but hey what are you gonna do?  

He made mock schedule after mock schedule.  He wouldn’t be able to start until February but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.  However he was running out of variations.  Maybe he should look at some other majors and make schedules for those.  Just for fun.  To keep his mind moving.  So he wouldn’t focus on the emptiness of the apartment, or the silence of his phone.  Or the coldness of his skin.

And there he was feeling sorry for himself again.  Missing his best friend, but more so missing being able to love him the way he did.  Missing having Ward to himself, and being able to float between being a friend and being in love, without any of the mess of having to commit to that kind of label, or to even find out if Ward felt the same way.  There was a part of Malcolm that wanted Ward to want him, but reality has a way of letting you know what's up.  And the truth was that he and Ward just weren’t compatible.  Didn’t matter if Malcolm could see himself giving up sex for the guy,  that's not how this relationship stuff worked.  It was more important that Ward be with someone who could meet his needs.  Maybe Malcolm was just fooling himself into thinking he could do that for Ward.  Maybe one day he would get so amped up and just attack Ward without thinking and destroy the man he loved…

FUCK NO!  Malcolm pounded the table. That was such bullshit!!!  He was a human not a fucking animal!  He would never do that to anyone, whether they were sex repulsed or not.  The stupid bullshit narrative about sexually rampant men invaded his mind and it was making him sick to his stomach.  What kind of monster does that?!  My hard dick is more important than your feelings or comfort?  How good can that kind of act be if the other person isn’t into it?  That's like half the fun!

He and Ward just didn’t belong together.  Malcolm was allosexual.  He was attracted to people sexually and was very open about it. He may not like things like dirty talk or even BDSM (though he always said each to their own) but he had some good times with his previous partners.  Some awkward times too but sometimes those were more fun and endearing.  It usually opened up conversation.  And as much as his ex-boyfriend Hisham hurt him after the break up, made him bleed and destroyed his heart, there were also pleasant moments.  He had never been as open to experimentation as he was with Hisham, and Hisham was so considerate, speaking sweetly to Malcolm as they pleasured each other, never doing things like making him feel emasculated or insisting on being the ‘top’.  But his favorite part about having sex with Hisham was waking up in each other's arms, completely naked and exposed, yet completely comfortable.  

All that was gone.  Taken away by Kilgrave and the drugs.  That part of his life was so foreign to him.  It was like another person almost.  He lost Hisham that day in the van, when Kilgrave ordered him to stick the needle in his arm.  No, Malcolm did not leave school or his boyfriend that day.  That would be a few weeks later when the addiction consumed him.  But Malcolm's future, the one he planned on, marrying Hisham, working with displaced children, it all snapped out of existence the moment the first shot of heroin entered his veins.  Why did he think that just because Jessica killed Kilgrave that Hisham would suddenly take him back?   _Hi, hun, I know I just left a few months ago without saying a word and I can see you have a very tall beefy boyfriend who looks like he wants to snap my neck right now but you see I was mind controlled and on drugs. And even though I’ve been clean for a few weeks I stayed away so_ you _wouldn’t get mind controlled.  Doesn't sound like bullshit at all does it? Wanna get back together?_ Sometimes Malcolm could be such an idiot.  He still remembered the bruises on his collarbone and shoulder blades from Hisham’s man pushing him against a wall, threatening him to leave.  He could recall the sound of Hisham’s sobs and the look on his now ex's heart broken face.  Malcolm did that to him.  It didn’t matter what happened to Malcolm, or how he got in that situation, he hurt that man he loved.  They were done.  Forever.  And those bruises were nothing compared to what he deserved.

Maybe… maybe that’s what this thing with Ward was.  Maybe he was meant to get attached to someone so deeply and intimately, someone he would be willing to compromise for, and then simply be the bridge to that person’s happiness.  Ward was his friend.  Alex was his friend.  And Malcolm was in between them, in the middle.  Which is why he took himself out of the equation.  How could those two asexuals get together if Malcolm was there seeking hugs and hair touches from Ward?  How would Alex confess their demons and insecurities to Ward, how would Ward finally be with someone who could touch him in the way that made him feel safe if Malcolm was there monopolizing on Ward’s emotions?  Malcolm was the healer, the medicine; but just like a hospital is there to make people whole again, it is also a place to leave behind.  He had done what he could for Ward.  Made Ward feel someone was on his side.  Made him feel worthy of love.  Made Ward realize that he would never become his abusive father as long as he made effort.  Made him realize that Joy would have to be a better sister to him.  Malcolm was there to help Ward, to get emotionally invested in a man and to never be loved back by him.  That was the punishment that God had set out for Malcolm.

As good as Malcolm got at numbing himself, a tear fell.  He couldn’t help but think of all the times he cried in front of Ward.  He never knew all the things he was repressing within himself until he met Ward.  Until Ward confessed his inner most darkness to him, all the horrible acts Ward did to protect his sister and Danny.  But mostly himself.  Ward had a way of seeing Malcolm’s insecurities that not even Malcolm noticed.  Ward even saved him from a drunken Hisham.  Well Jessica threw his ass out after Hisham tore up Malcolm’s arm to the point where it bled, where Ward had to clean it, where Ward had to hold Malcolm because he was so destroyed over Hisham showing his true colors, showing what Malcolm deserved.  Ward denied it.  Even made Malcolm believed that Hisham was the asshole.  But Malcolm knew the truth.  And now he had lost another man he had fallen in love with.

But it's okay, he thought as the pain ebbed in his throat.  This is life and this is what's supposed to happen.  This is what he was put on earth to do.  To help.  To heal.  The moment he thought he could have someone was the moment that the universe put him back in line.  He apologized to the universe.  He was sorry he forgot his place.  He knew now that he was just the way home, but not the destination.  

He sat for a moment, embracing his purpose.  Then he lifted his hand, placing his fingers to his lips, pressing against them.  He couldn’t help but indulge in what maybe kissing Ward would have been like.  There were moments before when Malcolm felt a rush to his jaw and the desire to plant one on his friend, his sweet friend, his beautiful mess of a friend.  But he could never do that to Ward.  That would be such a shock to the man who did not like to be touched and especially not as a surprise.  Ward’s father saw to that trigger, with the beatings and the almost killing his son with a golf club to the head.  That was one of the things that Malcolm and Ward worked on.  Getting used to touch or at least getting used to telling people how to touch Ward.  Letting Ward know it was okay to set boundaries for himself, that there was nothing wrong with not liking skin on skin contact.  But with Malcolm he could do some physical contact, most of the time.  Malcolm always asked if how he was touching him was correct, what would be more comfortable, even backing off when Ward just couldn’t handle it.  But there were times when they held hands and Malcolm remembered the warmth of Ward’s fingers.  Or when Malcolm fell apart in front of Ward and the man would thumb away his tears.  Or when Ward thought Malcolm would leave after finding out that he was abused, and when he and Malcolm talked Ward held onto Malcolm, hugged him, and Malcolm hugged him in a way Ward hadn’t been held in years.  Malcolm could still feel the weight of Ward’s pain from that night, could still feel the bristles of Ward’s hair on his own finger tips, and the smell of his cologne with his natural scent.  

Everyone always thought they were dating.  They were just comfortable with each other.  Malcolm hated that men didn’t show affection this way, and maybe that’s what he loved about Ward.  That he wanted to hold hands with his best friend, that he wanted to dry his tears, or hold Malcolm until his panic attacks passed.  But what Malcolm loved most of all was Ward touching his hair.  God those fingers in Malcolm’s locks sent a tremor through his body.  Malcolm angled his jaw from side to side trying to remember what it felt like.  The heat that would radiate in Malcolm’s scalp, the soft stroking of Ward’s hand on his curls.  ‘Curls’.  That’s what Ward called him.  He loved that nickname.  He loved it so much.  He loved Ward.  So.  Much.

He finally bowed his head on the table resting it on his forearms and cried.  Sobbed.  Tears fell onto his notepad obscuring the words ‘ _History of Witchcraf_ t’ and ‘ _ENGL 200_ ’.  He wanted to be with Ward more than anything.  But he wasn’t allowed.  Malcolm was a horrible person who did horrible things.  And Ward deserved so much more than Malcolm.  And who better than Alex!  Alex was wonderful!  They were funny and kind.  So smart.  So smart!  They would know how to handle Ward as well, with all his ticks and triggers, with all his darkness and light.  And Ward would be great for Alex.  Keeping them grounded, supporting them in their time of need.  Ward knew what it was like to lose a family member to an illness.  And as much as Alex would put on a brave face, they needed someone to empathize with their pain and worry.  Ward could do that for them.  They were wonderful together and Malcolm was happy he could do that for two people he cared about.  The idea eased his tears a bit.  He lifted his head resting his chin on his hands and letting the tears fall onto his fingers.  

He could still be friends with them.  But God how he would miss these past few months.  Even with all the hurt and pain of both their pasts, being with Ward in this way was a heaven like nothing Malcolm had ever experienced.  Not one of his previous relationships had even compared to how he and Ward were.  How emotionally open they were with each other.  It was beautiful and vulnerable.  He wished it could last forever.  Maybe they could have some form of that.  Maybe they wouldn’t be able to touch the way they used to but maybe still talk.  Of course Ward wouldn’t have as much time or emotional energy for Malcolm but maybe, still, something…

Malcolm sat back up and wiped his face.  He needed to clear his head.  He needed to focus on school and getting his life together.  Maybe become a teacher.  He wasn’t sure.  He was still deciding.  He liked history.  He hated the way it was taught.  Maybe--

Malcolm’s phone rang.  It was Alex.  Thank God he got out of his funk just in time.  He picked up the phone.

“Hey dude, I was just thinking about you,” he joked, half honest, like he always did.

“Malcolm! Its Ward,” Alex sounded worried.  

“Alex?  What's going on?” he asked.

“Something, something happened.  He-he’s in the hospital.  I don’t know what to do”.

Hospital?  Ward!  Malcolm shot up from his chair.

“I’m coming.  Which hospital!?”  He raced around the room for his keys and coat.

“St. Agitha’s.  Malcolm he keeps asking--”

Whatever Ward was asking, Malcolm didn’t hear.  The phone hung up on Alex’s end.  Malcolm barreled out of his apartment to the elevator.  As the doors were sliding closed Jessica looked out of her apartment door at him.  She shook her head in a question.  Malcolm shook his head, worry obvious in his eyes.  He didn’t have time to explain.  He had to get to Ward.  He had to see if he was okay.  No matter what, he cared about his friend.  Malcolm tried calling Alex again but they weren’t picking up.  What the hell Alex?  What was going on?  Did Ward...did he… did he use again?  Did-Did he use too much?  Did he… Did he OD?  Malcolm gasped at the thought.  He flagged down the nearest taxi as he exited the building.  What happened?  Oh God please let him be okay?  Let his friend be okay?  Please God!?  Please!?


	2. Ward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward didn't want to admit it but he had fallen love with his best friend. And he knew nothing would come of it. That was the price of sex repulsion. Isolation. Isolation for safety. Comfort instead of love. But he could pretend that Malcolm, a man he had so much in common with, who accepted him as he was, would at least want to be around him. He thought wrong...

The first time Ward met Malcolm was the time Ward got stabbed.  One of Danny's hairbrained schemes to get the Hand out of their company.  Get one of the operatives on a date with Ward so he could plant a listening device on them.  And their protection?  A PI with super strength and her secretary.  That day they were making the plan in Jessica Jones’ office Malcolm walked in with files and groceries. He and Ward didn't recognize each other at first but they had seen each other before then.  The night Ward was so alone and so desperate for a high and so terrified to get hooked again.  He disguised himself in a casual coat and baseball cap and went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.  Malcolm was there giving his testimony while Ward hid in the crowd.  Ward related to what Malcolm said, the fear of oneself, the loneliness of being the only addict you knew, the willingness to die before going back to old habits.  When Malcolm was back in his seat in the crowd he looked at Ward, up and down.  Ward was uncomfortable with people looking at him that way.  Checking him out.  But he was also afraid he would be recognized and left.  

Malcolm did recognize him that day in Jessica's office.  And he did something amazing.  He didn't say anything. Now he knew Ward was a CEO, a millionaire, he could use all of that against him.  But he just kept his mouth shut.  He took the anonymous part of that group name pretty seriously.

Then the fake date happened.  That woman was dressed in such an exposing ensemble, obviously trying to seduce Ward.  Little did she know that he didn't find that kind of thing appealing.  A human body wasn't alluring to him.  He didn't look at people and feel that sexual pull.  Never did.  And when she tried to kiss him he was so uncomfortable.  It was too fast.  He couldn't jump into physicality like that, but Malcolm's voice in his ear piece reminded him this was a mission. So he recited poetry in his head to get through the ordeal.  But all along she was fooling him.  She stabbed him, left him for dead.  Malcolm, Danny, and Jess came for him, Danny partially healed Ward with his chi, and Malcolm kept him at his place for the night.

That night they became friends.  They bonded over video games which Ward hadn't played in over a decade yet completely demolished Malcolm in a fighter.  And when Malcolm bandaged Ward up, he listened to Ward explaining how he didn't like physical touch. Instead of telling him to get over it or ignoring him, like most people did, Malcolm was careful not to touch him.  He respected Ward, made an effort to be considerate, something Ward hadn't known in a while, not even from Danny, who was kind but self-centered.

And the day Ward came out to Malcolm as asexual, Malcolm didn't laugh or leave.  He asked questions.  He treated Ward like he was normal, tried to relate.  He even researched it afterwards.  Taught Ward some things he didn't even know, wasn't allowed to indulge in.  This wasn't how he was supposed to be.  As a human.  As a man.  But Malcolm saw Ward for everything he was and saw a person. Not a monster.  How someone as beautiful and good as Malcolm could see that in someone so wrong, Ward would never understand.  But he was too weak to deny himself the affection.

Malcolm was his best friend.  Malcolm said Ward was his.  That they got each other like nobody else did.  Ward found that some days he could pretend that's true.  But one thing he could never let himself indulge in, because it hurt too much, was the fact that Ward was in love.  In love with this man who so readily accepted him, who gave him room to breath, gave him time to be comfortable with his touch, allowed him to hold his hand when he was scared.  Malcolm wasn't afraid to be like that.  Compassionate.  Feminine.  Soft.  Harold would roll over in his grave if he knew how to stay in one.  Ward's father would never accept a friendship with Malcolm, or what Ward desired most.  Ward Meachum?  With a man?  He could only imagine the beatings.  Maybe even that Harold would kill Malcolm to ensure Ward's allegiance.  But Harold was burned and disintegrated into ashes.  He was gone.  He was gone.

Ward would never be enough for Malcolm.  The man was a physical lover, as evidence by his cruel ex, who came in and destroyed Malcolm one night.  Hisham was drunk and angry.  When Ward and Jessica ran into the apartment hearing Malcolm's screams they came upon a bloody scene.  Hisham had scratched Malcolm's already needle scarred arm leaving deep nail marks and trails of blood.  Malcolm was in shock and Ward defended him, placing himself between the two.  Hisham mistook Ward for Malcolm's new boyfriend (like that would ever happen) and as revenge announced their lovers secret.  “Malcolm loves his whole ass eaten out,” Hisham proclaimed with a sneer.  And Malcolm was broken, embarrassed, distraught.  Jess almost quite literally threw Hisham out of the apartment. Ward was there to clean the wound, devastated that Malcolm couldn't look him in the eye.  Ward didn't care what Hisham said.  It was nothing to him.  But Malcolm looked so beside himself. He couldn't speak without his jaw shaking uncontrollably and Ward couldn't let him carry on like that.  He held him.  Hugged Malcolm out of his stupor, and Malcolm cried and held onto Ward, bleeding on his shirt from the embrace.  He was so brokenhearted and all Ward wanted to do was mend it.   But he wasn't for Malcolm.

Ward knew one day Malcolm would find someone to replace him.  That once Malcolm found a man who could provide everything, love and sex, that Ward would be alone again. It seemed that day had finally come. But it would be okay.  All he would have to do is go to work, be punctual, eat when it was time, not feel anything, not expect anything.  Because Malcolm was kind to him once and now Malcolm was happy.  That was all Ward deserved.  That was all life would allow him. 

He didn't know exactly what he did that pushed Malcolm away but he understood the excuses.  Work, work, oh and more work.  Alex wasn't sure what happened either.  The three of them were so good in the beginning.  They went to movies and out to dinner.  It was so much fun. And talking to Alex about being ace.  It was so relieving.  He knew he wasn't the only asexual person.   When Ward met Alex, they were so bold about it, it was surreal.  And it turned out Malcolm had been kind to Alex as well.  They said Malcolm was the first to respect their pronouns, respect their own discomfort with sexually explicit touch back when they didn't know asexuality was a thing, let alone that they were ace. Ward learned he wasn't special to Malcolm in that way.  But he never thought Malcolm would just leave like that.  Excuses at first, and then silence. But could he blame Malcolm?  This was Ward Meachum.  Who wanted someone like him?  Who would want a monster?

He hadn't slept much the past few weeks.  He would dream of his Dad again.  His dad killing him.  Killing Joy.  Killing Malcolm.  But what was worse was the dreams where he would see Malcolm or the ones where he was being held by him.  So comfortable.  So loved.  It was awful.  Ward kept awake by drawing.  Drawing buildings and structures.  He was quite good at it.  But his mind would wander and he couldn't help but draw the places from Malcolm's home town, places he remembered from their trip to a family wedding, where Malcolm invited Ward.  When Ward was good for something, even if it was just a platonic rebound.  

Food was foreign.  He didn't want to eat. Ward would feed his cat Dante, the one Malcolm got for him.  He loved petting Dante, genuinely loved this beautiful black cat, the one thing that wasn't disgusted by his touch, that even indulged in it.  But as far as Ward it hurt too much to eat.  He didn't want to.  He was so tired. But he could control it.  He could be a robot again.  

One day he was on the phone with Joy.  She had come back to Rand.  Come out of hiding.  She was in the China division of the company all that time she was gone.  Said she was trying to remove the Hand from that side.  Said she was successful.  Now she was trying to do the same here in New York.  But she hated Ward.  He deserved it.  He lost her trust the day he tried to have their Dad killed.  He wished she saw what Harold did to Ward.  But she was right.  How was he any different than their dad?

Ward was having trouble concentrating on the call.  Joy's voice, as curt as it had been, was echoey over the line.  Ward's head was swimming as he tried to concentrate on her words.  He responded as coherently as possible.  Joy hung up.  He did too.  Ward put both hands on his desk and closed his eyes.  He tried to steady himself.  He took a deep breath.  He had to grab some files across the room.  He could do this.

Ward stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet with determination.  He found the folder he was looking for and closed the drawer.  He was walking back to his desk when he felt a wave of dizziness hit him.  He put a hand to his head shaking it, trying to ignore it.  He took a step forward and suddenly couldn't stay standing.  His eyes rolled up in his head and he understood why all those books he read described this as crumpling to the floor.  It was like his limbs lost all their strength and the joints just bent in on each other, the weight of his body the only thing that existed.  He tried to get up but everything faded to dark.  The last thing on his mind was curly hair and a caring smile.


End file.
